Heaven Sent

I painted. Meeting the man, Cephi, had supercharged my creativity juices. I had so many ideas. All involving that man and some paint, and maybe a few other items that were equally messy... Yeah. Uh, back to the painting.

It was colorful. I wanted to capture the warmth of the individual this time. Honestly the picture looked downright girly. I’m sure somebody would like it. It was probably an acquired taste. A weird piece of art, but still unmistakably good. And beautiful. Little surprise with the subject matter.

After the painting was dry, I wrapped it up and headed to Tim’s.

The bell jingled as I slowly pushed the door open.

“Where in the fuckin’ seven layers of Hell have you been yeh dick of an asshole?” Tim shouted at me. I paled. Hate those words. And his other customers didn’t appreciate them much either. They gave an offended squawk and left the art store with their nose sticking high in the air.

“I think you just lost yourself a customer,” I said trying to get his angry gaze to focus on something else.

“Fuck ’em.” Well, it was worth a try.

His smoldering eyes focused on me and I knew this wouldn’t be as enjoyable as my usual visits were to the shop. “Let’s hear it. Where were you? You said five days ago that you would be back tomorrow. Five days!" He crossed his arms waiting for the answer he expected me to give him.

I took a large breath and barreled through the events that kept me away for the past couple of days leaving out the stuff about the blood drinkers. As far as Tim was concerned, I was assaulted by those two “art dealers” in an alley. When I was done recounting the tale Tim was staring at me with his mouth agape.

“You know, If you didn’t want to tell me what happened it would have been alright, but making up stories, Allen. That’s just not like you.” Tim was looking at me with a disappointed frown on his face.

What? He really didn’t believe me... “Why don’t you believe me?” I almost died. I was hurt, and I think it showed in my voice. This man was like a brother to me. He had to believe me.

To my dismay a smile cracked the angry façade. “I’m just messin’ with yea you worry wart. C’mere.” He grabbed my arm and yanked me into a hug.

“Missed yeh little buddy. Don’t you ever do somethin’ like that again. You hear?”

“Aye, aye captain.” I mock saluted him.

“So what’s this new painting yeh got?” Tim asked rubbing his greedy hands together and making the switch from concerned friend to business man. I rolled my eyes. He was a goof, plain and simple.

~HS~

“Van, I’m hungry,” the vampire whined putting on a very undignified pouty face. “How much longer ’til we eat?”

How long until you act your age?” the older vampire asked. Why was his brother such a disappointment? They were supposed to be twins and Van hated to think that Desoto was in anyway a reflection of himself.

“I’m 337 years old, you better hope I don’t start acting my age. I’m hungry.” He repeated.

Van sighed in defeat. He knew there was no winning such a battle. They would have to go hunting tonight. He had to admit, he was ravenous, but there were more pressing matters to think about. The most pressing one: where the hell was the body?

There was no way the kid could have survived. There had been no body in the alley when they went back to check on it, but the painting had still been there. They had snagged that. Still, there had been no mention of the body on the news or in the papers. It was as if the kid had gotten up and walked away. And Van was starting to think that’s exactly what had happened.

But if that scrawny little brat lived after their treatment, did that mean they were losing their touch? Van dismissed the notion immediately. It couldn’t mean that. They had taken enough blood to down somebody twice that kid’s size. There must have been something genetically wrong with the kid. That was the only reasonable explanation. Tiearyu didn’t give a damn what happened to any of these boys, so there was no way he would have disposed of the body. No the kid must have been alive. But how were they going to prove it?

“..an, Van... Hey, yo Van, I’m talikn’ to yah,” Desoto yelled trying to get his brother’s attention. He knew his brother was upset about the kid. He’d be upset too if he weren’t so hungry. But... “If it bothers you so much, why don’t we go to the shop the kid brought all his pictures to? That way we’ll be able to see that he’s dead. It’s pretty hard to make new paintings when you’re dead.”

Every once in a while Desoto actually came up with a decent idea. This must have been one of those times. Van was impressed. Okay, we’ll go visit that art shop. What is it called?

“Assorted Art from Around the Block.” Desoto chimed in trying to be helpful.

A growl came from his brother. “How many times do I have to tell you,” he seethed. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Head.” He crossed his arms and seemed to pout acting every bit like a petulant child. “Let’s go to the dumb store before it closes.” He led the way to the art store where they had first seen the pictures of Tiearyu.

~HS~

Tim was having a slow night. There were only three customers in his shop. Three. And they weren’t buying anything. Allen was also on his shit list at the moment. After being away for almost a week he showed up with one measly painting. And it was a small painting. Even with the painting’s high quality and the subject’s growing popularity, Tim felt like he should be getting more for his money. He knew Allen had been attacked and was recovering, but what better way to heal than some art therapy? He reasoned that all Allen could have done when hurt that bad was paint. There should have been more than just that one small dinky, incredibly realistic painting.

The shop bell rang letting Tim know that his door had been opened. He heaved a sigh resting his arms on his sales desk, one of these days he was going to rip that annoyingly happy bell down and replace it with a bucket of tar, or maybe a cowbell. Yeah, definitely a cowbell. He could never get annoyed with a cowbell.

He plastered a fake grin on his face and looked up to great his customer with one of his famous one-liners. Who he saw made him want to cringe, close the shop and hide under his sales desk like the big strong man he was. Those two guys were standing before him, tall and discomforting as ever.

Tim had to tread carefully with these two. They tried to kill his friend. Why were they not in jail? “Hey guys,” he said feigning joviality. “Are yeh gonna buy somethin’ tonight, or just creep out my customers?” He tried to laugh, but it came out shrill and taut like the freaking bell that chimed above his door. He closed his mouth and swallowed. Why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? Well, at least there was a desk in between him and them.

The guys just glared at him. “So... creepin’ out the customers it is... Good choice.” He put a grin on his face that was clearly forced and fake.

One of the men moved closer to him a glare upon his face. “Where are those pictures?” He growled.

Tim scratched the back of his head nervously. “Um... what pictures would those be exactly? I got...”

The man lunged over his desk and grabbed him, pulling him by the collar of his shirt until he was an inch away from the other’s face. “You know which ones I’m talking about,” he seethed through clenched teeth. He threw the heavy man to the ground.

Tim stared up at the man in horror. No way was this guy for real. Sure he was ripped, but Tim had a good one fifty, maybe even two hundred pounds on the guy. He couldn’t possibly lift a behemoth like Tim and throw him on top of that.

Still frightened from the rough treatment Tim lifted a shaky finger and pointed. Pointed to his newest picture, of a certain man with dark hair and no eyes. He was so distraught he didn’t even think of the danger he was putting the painter into by revealing the new art.

The two men dashed over to the painting staring at it with wide eyes.

“Van, can dead guys paint?” he heard one ask the guy who had thrown him to the ground.

The other roared in frustration and punched a marble statue as he strode out of the shop, his brother right on his heels.

Tim shakily picked himself off of the floor. ”Holy fuck.” He hissed. He walked over to the statue. It had literally exploded when the guy punched it. If he could do this to marble... What was going to happen to Allen? Flesh and bones weren’t that hard.

“Oh, God. I lead them right to you.” Tim raked his hands through his hair. If Allen lived through the last ordeal, he could make it through another run-in with the duo. And if not, Tim didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself.

~HS~

“So, he’s alive you say, interesting,” The master said. Van was confused by the reaction. He was expecting anger, or morbid curiosity. What he got was a sentence. A calmly stated sentence. Almost as if he...

“You knew?" Van accused almost sounding offended.

“Of course I knew you imbecile!” he boomed. Now there was the master Van was familiar with. He heard chuckling next to him. Desoto obviously found this highly amusing. “How could I not know? With Tiearyu being what he is. The was no way that kid was human.”

“But what could he be?” Van asked curious to see If the master knew that answer as well.

“He’s not a vampire,” Desoto stated happily.

Van glared at him.

“Of course he’s not a vampire,” the master agreed exasperatedly. “I have a theory, but I want to be absolutely sure. If I’m right about what he is we’ll be able to use him to get that fucking angel.”

Van liked the sound of that. And maybe when the master was done with the kid he’d let Van play with him again.

All business, Van asked, “What do you need us to do?”

Here his master smiled. A wickedly sweet thing that made Van’s skin crawl. “Absolutely nothing.”

That wasn’t a good sign. If they weren’t useful, they’d be dead. Those were the terms of their servitude. Stupid terms, but they had no other choice.

“I’m going to find this kid myself.” The man giggled maniacally. “We’re going to become such good friends.”

And with that their master was gone, leaving them in that cave. Alive. For now...